Although it sure was enjoyable — not to mention impeccably played and sung — there was something a little too mannered about "Barton Hollow," the 2011 debut album by the Civil Wars. The set, a surprise hit, seemed perfectly tailored to satisfy the intellectual demands of the buttoned-down T Bone Burnett side of the alternative country audience. It was telling that on "Safe and Sound," the Civil Wars’ collaboration with Taylor Swift for the "Hunger Games" sound track, it was Swift who sounded the notes of destabilization and distress.

With "The Civil Wars," the duo’s sophomore album, that’s all changed. The set is an emotional lightning storm from beginning to end, and if you play out in it, you’re going to get struck by something powerful. The blues are dirtier, the ballads more lovelorn, the lyrics are blunt and anguished, the harmonies walk the line between beauty and total breakdown, and the relationship between singers Joy Williams and John Paul White sounds dangerously close throughout.

Which is ironic, because Williams and White have made it known that they’re no longer speaking to each other. Sometimes, a split can engender a creative breakthrough. If, for personal reasons, this is the last Civil Wars collection, the two singer- songwriters can console themselves with the fact that they wrapped the project with an uncompromising statement.

"Barton Hollow" producer Charlie Peacock returns to his place behind the boards and leads Williams and White through the same stark Appalachian fields they traversed two years ago. The instrumentation remains spare: an acoustic guitar or two, occasional mandolin, pedal steel, hammered dulcimer, distant organ and rudimentary, anchoring bass; drums are there from time to time, but they’re mostly a whispered rumor.

The musicians impart this arrangement aesthetic to a pair of interpretations: Etta James’ "Tell Mama," which becomes a pained confession, and "Disarm" by the Smashing Pumpkins, which is still both epic and a shade too cute. Other modest departures include "Sacred Heart," sung by Williams in French, and the ragged "D’Arline," in which White growls over a lo-fi acoustic guitar that buzzes, crackles and stubbornly refuses to resonate.

"Dust to Dust" and "The One That Got Away" are typical plainspoken ballads, but the dialogue between two singers who aren’t attempting to disguise their hurt render both raw. "Oh Henry," a song directed at a cheating lover, is frank, and White matches Williams’ lead vocal with a six-string strum so heavy, it sounds as if he’s trying to break the guitar.

Best of all is "Same Old Same Old," which could be a protest about a marriage gone stale or a broadside delivered by a mistress to a cheater who won’t ditch his spouse. "I’m going to name names, I’m going to call us out, I’m going to say it if you won’t," threatens Williams. She’s fed up, worn out, she’s switching off the light and bolting the door — but she’s determined to make a statement before she goes.

Anne Schwanewilms, who sings the Kaiserin in Richard Strauss’ "Die Frau ohne Schatten" at the Metropolitan Opera this fall, gives an enticing preview of what’s to come on a recording of German lieder. Her full, caramel-hued soprano encompasses a rich array of dark and light tones, and she sings with thoughtful, subtle expressivity. She draws the listener into the individual stories of songs by Hugo Wolf immediately and also maintains variety and interest over the longer trajectory of Robert Schumann’s Liederkreis op. 39. Her voice sustains gorgeously in a slow rendition of Schumann’s "Mondnacht," in a way that suits the poetic landscape of the text. Her long-held decrescendo at the end of Wolf’s "Verborgenheit" is also breathtaking. But there is more to her art than beautiful technique and timbre, which becomes particularly clear as she sings of the anguish of losing the support of God in Wolf’s "Wo find’ ich Trost." Manuel Lange provides sensitive accompaniment throughout, from understated, spare Schumann settings to the more harmonically complex and emotionally demonstrative Wolf.
— Ronni Reich

Golden Record
The Dangerous Summer (Hopeless)

Half of the lineup that made "Reach for the Sun," the Dangerous Summer’s demanding 2009 art-rock debut, is now gone. The group cannot seem to hold on to a drummer: Its latest, Ben Cato, plays with force and finesse, but cannot match the imagination of original skinsman Tyler Minsberg. A bigger loss is guitarist Bryan Czap, whose alternately atmospheric and stinging leads provided a sweet counterpoint to frontman A.J. Perdomo’s emotional bloodlettings. The new Dangerous Summer — the group that made "Golden Record," its third — is a slightly duller and more conventional version of the initial model. But Perdomo remains a skillful lyricist (even if he never seems to cheer up) and when the band bothers to write a hook, they can drive it home with the conviction of prime Jimmy Eat World or early U2. "Catholic Girls," the kickoff, is a winner, as is the piano-pounding "We Will Wait in the Fog." "Miles Apart" is the first Dangerous Summer romantic ballad that actually works as an expression of longing for another person rather than a self-excoriating soliloquy. This uneven disc sometimes slips into midrange guitar-dominated monotony. But when it succeeds, it’s a reminder of how powerful this often-difficult rock band can be.

—Tris McCall Don’t Look Down
Skyar Grey (Interscope)

Writing hooks for pop-rap songs requires some personality, but not too much of it — it’s important to craft something memorable, but you don’t want to overshadow the emcee. Skylar Grey first came to national attention through Eminem’s "Love the Way You Lie," a smash hit she co-wrote; Eminem returned the favor by executive producing "Don’t Look Down," her solo album. It’s an eclectic set, as you might expect from a hook writer, and it often looks to ’90s pop for inspiration — particularly Alanis Morissette’s "Jagged Little Pill." Grey’s "Pulse" growls and rages like "You Oughta Know"; "Religion" is a litany of misfortune akin to "Ironic." Despite the subject matter, most of which confronts Grey’s romantic turmoil in pungent language, the overwhelming tone of the album is one of politeness. Many of these melodies would have made excellent, catchy hip-hop hooks, and some of the best songs contain guest rap verses from Big Sean, Angel Haze and Eminem. When no rap materializes — and usually it doesn’t — it’s up to Grey to sustain interest beyond the first verse and chorus. Her modest voice is too often insufficient for the task.